


The Perverted Fantasies Of Covert Strangers

by Moonlitdark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Kilts, M/M, PWP, kilt kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: The sight was deliciously alluring. Draco’s right leg was curled up on the mattress, knee pointed towards the centre of the bed, creating a fascinating canopy of material between taut thighs, and through the sudden rush of blood to his groin, Harry had a sudden urge to lick at the place where thick cloth ended and delicious skin began. Therefore, he decided to do exactly that.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	The Perverted Fantasies Of Covert Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.

“I’m back,” Draco happily stated, dipping the mattress beside Harry's prone form as he sat.

Harry squinted up into the unwelcome light and yawned, confused as to when Draco had actually gone out.

“Mmm… why? Where did you go?”

“Well, I have to say that it’s comforting to note just how much my presence is missed in my absence.”

“Dreadfully missed,” Harry tried to assure, but the impression of sincerity was somewhat hampered by another gaping yawn.

“At this point in the afternoon, civilised people are normally wearing clothing.”

“I’m… working on it,” declared Harry, making no effort whatsoever to follow the statement with appropriate action. But the mentioned fact of his own convenient nakedness beneath the sheet had somehow managed to register in his sleepy mind. Or at least, another part of his body. “So, where were you?” he asked, letting a hand emerge into the daylight to explore Draco’s nearby thigh.

“Shopping. I _did_ tell you.”

Momentary disappointment that Draco had begun the day without him didn’t last long. “That really sounds… like something I wouldn’t have wanted to do.”

“Exactly. So I thought that I’d let you sleep. Of course, I hadn’t expected you to doze the entire day away.”

“You said it was only afternoon.”

“ _Late_ afternoon, Harry.”

“I’m getting up.” And as his fingers kneaded the supple flesh, he really was. But there was something different about Draco’s leg today, he noticed as his mind began to catch up with events. It was encased in an odd covering. Strangely thick, like a firm woolly weave, but comforting and warm.

Peeking open an eyelid, Harry surveyed the unusual material. A pattern of contrasted black and white squares with thin, cross-woven lines of a distinctly Slytherin green gradually sharpened into focus. A fitted, black shirt completed the ensemble, clinging seductively to the toned, smooth torso which Harry knew was underneath. The black stopped just below Draco’s waist, slightly hitched up at one side to reveal a broad, buckled leather belt hanging low on slim hips. Harry's vision moved back downwards to skim over all that tartan and the back of his own hand, abruptly halting at the hem. 

The sight was deliciously alluring. Draco’s right leg was curled up on the mattress, knee pointed towards the centre of the bed, creating a fascinating canopy of material between taut thighs, and through the sudden rush of blood to his groin, Harry had a sudden urge to lick at the place where thick cloth ended and delicious skin began. Therefore, he decided to do exactly that.

Pushing himself to a sitting position, he swept aside the barrier of cotton sheet which separated him from his goal. “Like your kilt,” didn’t even slightly express Harry’s appreciation of this new garment, but his brain was far too preoccupied with what his tongue intended to do.

“Thanks,” Draco trilled innocently, but Harry didn't believe for a second that Draco hadn't noted his rising reaction. “I was informed that this garment suited me rather well.”

A horrible thought occurred to Harry at just the moment his head had started to dip, snapping his neck back up. “By who?” 

“The charming shop assistant who sold it to me. He took great care in ensuring that it fit well.” Harry was suddenly positive that the assistant took _great_ care indeed. “Apparently it’s very fashionable this season.”

Fashion wasn’t Harry’s main concern. Overcome by a vision of a leering man drooling over the sight of his beautiful kilt-clad Draco, possibly even touching the garment upon this body before Harry had a chance to play with it, he fumed in irritation. 

“It is a little unusual for me to wear something so revealing in public,” Draco added, “but people didn't seem to mind.”

Imagining many other random strangers gazing appreciatively as Draco glided by, swishing and gorgeous, (undoubtedly not _'minding'_ in the least), Harry mentally waved off any contradicting reasonable thoughts before they could stop his impending rant. Jealousy wasn’t usually a habitual character trait, but for this moment he was prepared to make an exception. 

“But it’s probably _windy_ outside!” he yelled, aware even as he said it that it had likely been the lamest argument he had used in quite a while. Maybe ever. 

“It’s a bit breezy, yes,” replied Draco, frowning in obvious confusion as to the important point which Harry had been endeavouring to convey. And Harry _did_ have a point; he was sure that he did.

“So people have been able to… to ogle you!”

“Ogle me?” Draco asked, his tone careful and quiet.

“Yes! You’ve been parading around half-naked in the middle of a city full of perverts!”

“Perverts? Where?”

“ _Every_ where!”

Draco was beginning to look amused, which didn't bode well for Harry's important point. Whatever it was. 

“They didn't approach me, how disappointing. Maybe they were plotting their perverted fantasies elsewhere.”

Although he hadn't yet formed a logical argument, Harry hissed in a lungful of air to continue regardless, but was stilled by a grip to his shoulder. Firm, but calming fingers drew him closer, brewing a tingling desire through the spot where their skin connected.

“Are you actually concerned that masses of covert, perverted strangers have been ogling me in Scottish clothing? And you're _jealous_ of them?”

It didn’t sound quite as logical when Draco put it like that. The hand on his shoulder shifted to the nape of his neck, cupping his hairline. Harry wanted to mash their faces together, rut his groin against the pleats and remove all traces of shop assistant from what was rightfully his. “No,” he lied, knowing that he was pitifully transparent.

“Maybe the only perverted fantasies around here are yours.”

“I don’t _have_ perverted fantasies!” He protested, even as his hand crept under the kilt.

“Hmm... some of the stuff you come up with is surely at least borderline.”

Sneaking his mouth a few inches nearer to gently smirking features and his hand across the slope of an inner thigh, Harry enquired, “And you don’t like it?”

“If I don’t like something Potter, I will always be sure to let you know.”

Tasting the bottommost of those lips with one moist stroke, Harry nodded. “Good.”

“You seem very... possessive today.”

Harry let his fingers explore by tentative inches, enjoying the contrast of velvety skin and heavy wool. 

“Do I?”

“You clearly need to re-stake your claim,” Draco breathed into Harry's open mouth, severing the last thread of patience.

“I… really, _really_ do,” Harry growled as he threw out a fist to yank a handful of shirt, and thereby of Draco, flush to his chest. A tumble of tartan, skin and lips fell upon him and as Draco manoeuvred his legs to straddle, two bare cocks brushed together and it struck Harry that something was missing. 

Explosive lust fuelled one hasty, heaving flip and Harry had successfully managed to be precisely where he wanted. Peeling their lips apart as Draco’s back hit the mattress; he watched in awe as the pleats of material fell from bent knees to flat stomach. 

Burying his nose in the softness of the shirt, breathing in the fresh scent of new clothing mingled with Draco, Harry smiled, enjoying the subtle probing of Draco’s erection against his stomach. He plucked at the shirt with a trembling grasp, revealing sharp hipbones and the trail of soft hair. After his tongue had followed the line of blond until it disappeared under leather and tartan, Harry was more than content to leave the belt in place as he dipped lower to taste the delights below the rucked-up hem.

Rapidly proceeding to the base of Draco’s erection, scrunching desperate fistfuls of black, white and green as he sucked, he gloried in the blanket of wool which caressed his face.

Draco moaned, eager thrusting only held at bay by Harry's restraining fistfuls of tartan, but much as Harry was enjoying this, his cock wasn’t going to wait much longer before demanding to be encased in something snug. Lamenting the loss of contact, he relinquished his task, shifting upwards and away.

The groan from Draco plainly disapproved of this decision, but Harry had other plans. “Turn over.”

It was testament to how much Draco desired that alternate plan when he didn't protest the order, but instead twisted to lie on his stomach and then hitched himself up onto his knees, head resting on his wrists, waiting.

Harry hurriedly lifted the hanging pleats over the slopes of Draco's buttocks, nestling the folds at the small of a sweat-soaked back before leaning dangerously over the side of the bed to snatch up a handy length of wood.

Draco immediately stalled, tilting his head inquisitively. “What’re you doing?”

“We need… lubricant.” A swish of his wand enthusiastically punctuated his point.

“That's my wand you're holding, Potter.”

“Oh…” focusing on the wood in his grasp, Harry shrugged, “…right, so it is. Well, it’ll do.”

“For what?”

“Lube spell.”

The buttocks in front of Harry squirmed in impatience. “Don’t we have any of the regular kind?”

“Nope.”

“But you were supposed to buy more," Draco huffed. “It was on the list!”

“Are we really gonna argue about this _right now_?”

“Fine, I can argue about your lack of consideration later.”

Harry made a mental note to fuck Draco’s arse especially hard just for that cheek, until he remembered that wouldn’t actually be a punishment. Resting the wand tip against Draco’s anus, he uttered the required spell. Nothing happened. He tried again with a tad more conviction to the command, but a lack of magic was still evident.

“Why isn’t it _working_?” Frustration produced a voice which was pathetically close to a high whine. 

“Shit. I forgot. It’ll only work for me. Where’s yours?”

“I don’t _know_!” Definitely a whine this time. “Useless twig.”

“Did you just refer to my wand as a ‘twig’, Potter?”

Ignoring the question in favour of prodding the stubborn wood at the opening only resulted in a curse of discontent from Draco. Harry continued his incantations, but not the unwise prodding. “ _Why_ will it only work for you? What sort of an idiot _does_ something like that to their wand?!” 

“I should probably mention that calling me an idiot isn’t helping to fill me with unbridled lust at this juncture.” 

“Sorry. I’m just… anxious. You know, to start.”

“While it’s lovely to hear that you can’t possibly wait another second to fuck me, I also think that we need to work on dampening down the whining in favour of something more seductive.”

“Sorry,” he repeated in a whisper, if not particularly seductively.

“That’s better. I warded my wand, to protect against the possibility of random people stealing it.”

Attempting to appear less guilty than he felt, Harry asked, “Well... can you remove the wards?”

“Not right now.” Draco's sudden, hushed composure wasn't rubbing off on Harry. “Just try again.”

“But you already said that it wouldn’t…”

“Just try.”

Harry sighed, sure of failure, but murmured, “Okay,” before directing the tip of the wand back to the tiny opening.

“Wait a moment.” Draco’s hand reached around to cover Harry’s, pressing his fingers into the wood. “Now.” Harry cast the spell, shocked as the jolt of joint magic which travelled down the wand also shot right to his groin with dizzying intensity, almost wrenching a climax from his already straining cock.

Coherent speech wasn't likely to follow that sensation. “Umm… wow.”

The deepened, frantic panting from Draco seemed to indicate agreement. 

“Harry, I’m really going to need you to fuck me soon.”

Breathing deep to regain control over his imminent orgasm, Harry promised, “I’m on it,” surprisingly retaining sufficient wisdom to carefully lay Draco’s wand to the side.

He wasted no further time pondering on anything which might hamper the fulfilment of his promise, but a pained gasp abruptly reminded Harry that in his haste, he had forgotten a cardinal rule.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry. You really _are_ in a hurry.”

“I didn’t mean to… do you want me to stop?” Harry babbled, although since his cock was currently embedded to the hilt in tight, sublime heat, he suspected that if the answer was affirmative, he might sob. 

“If you don’t start buggering me properly extremely shortly, then I’m going to tie you down on your back and do it myself.”

Storing that appealing image for later, Harry tugged his hips back cautiously, listening for further sounds of discomfort. But the only noises he could hear were more of those wonderful pants of urgency, so he sank in with increasing confidence and pulled swiftly out with vigour. The quickening repetition of this motion soon sped up the panting beneath him, the slap of flesh meeting flesh spurring Harry on. When the body linked to his shuddered in orgasm, muscles clenched forcefully around his erection, tearing out a cry and triggering the end of Harry's sparse control.

Lying tangled together, Harry's sated cock pressed happily into folds of tartan as his cheek laid upon the pillow to doze in contentment. 

“Hmm... I knew I'd like that,” Draco murmured in his ear, snuggling their torsos together.

The widening smile of satisfaction beside him offered Harry surprising clarification of a motivation which was ridiculously obvious in the calm of the aftermath. “You did that on purpose.”

“Did what?” The feigned innocence displayed on Draco's features wouldn't have fooled anyone. 

“This... today's wake-up call.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” denied Draco, but the lingering smile blatantly contradicted that statement of defence.

Considering the level of enjoyment it had brought, Harry couldn't bring himself to be annoyed by the blatant manipulation. But he could think of one thing which might be beneficial. “Fine, but I'll need to demand something in payment for being so utterly used.”

“What's that?”

“That you do it again tomorrow.”


End file.
